Thursday, February 28, 2008

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Two minutes into our cab ride in the pouring rain, my elderly Hungarian driver rasps, "You may be better off on zee Subway!" Despite my protests, he drops me two blocks from Farragut West & I stupidly pay him $14 before hoofing it to the Metro, where I take a 10-minute cab ride to Capitol South. In retrospect, I'd like to say this to my cabbie, regardless of his age or feebleness: "SCREW YOU! If I'd wanted to take the Metro, I wouldn't have hailed you in the first place, you useless moron. It's not my fault you picked me up when your tank was on E, but don't pawn me off on the Metro so you can remedy it, & then expect me to pay you."

If I'd taken the cab the whole way, however, I'd have missed the guy who hopped on at Judiciary Square & announced to our traincar,"Excuse me! Please look here!" & sang a hymnal all the way to the next stop before telling everyone, "Thank you & God bless," then running to the next car to repeat. I videotaped it, but the footage won't upload from my phone to my computer. DAMN IT.

And on the positive side of today, I did see a man carrying the mother of all murses.

(That's man-purses, for you non-word-combiners out there. Tell me this one isn't a beaut.)

Monday, February 18, 2008

Exhibit A)

In the heart of the U.S., Thai food abounds -- and so, apparently, do bad puns. In case Thai Phoon wasn't horrific enough, I present to you my (very classy) new favorite, located in Logan Circle. How is it that a place this place offensive hasn't sunk already? Ba-dum-chhh, I'll be here all night.

Exhibit B)

Just because you pay $1000+ in monthly rent doesn't mean you're also cashing in on the most up-to-date new kitchen appliances. Case in point? This monstrosity of a microwave, sitting on the curb outside a snazzy Dupont townhouse. I'm pretty sure you could time travel in this thing, or at least generate some madly cancerous rays.

Exhibit C)On a personal note, the contents of my refrigerator are still the saddest thing I have seen since... well, since I took a picture of that microwave a few hours ago, but you get the point. I just "cooked" one Pillsbury Grand & one Morningstar Farms faux-sausage patty in my toaster oven to create a delightful breakfats sandwich for one. Ohhh, the creative things you think of when you're kitchenless.

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Want to know how awesome last night was? Last night was so awesome that at one point, I texted two friends from Ohio to say, "I'm at U St. & Clifton in D.C. In case I get abducted, I want someone to know where I am." Last night was so awesome that I forced Ben & Arielle to take a cab the final three blocks of our walk to the Wonderland Bar because I was that convinced we were about to get mugged. Last night was so awesome that the cab drive only charged us $6 instead of $11 because he said it wasn't safe for us to be out walking.

Once we arrived at said bar, however, the night became actually awesome. Wonderland is this awkward pseudo-hipster bar, the kind I'd be into at home if such places existed in the 'burbs. When we arrived, a makeshift dance party was in the works, led by (among others) a guy with intense 'chops wearing an Elmo tee and a shiny green jacket with GRISWOLD emblazoned across the back.

We had a helluva time establishing different genres of dancers -- i.e. the clappers, the snappers, the side-steppers, the hands-in-the-airers, the robotics, the girl who looked like a tranny who pulled a lot of showy "look at me!" moves. In the end, we caved & joined the fray & danced til we literally were so sweaty we couldn't bear to be in public anymore.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

I get to the bus stop a little later than usual after spending the majority of my morning deciding what to wear to tonight’s Valentine’s Day Happy Hour soiree. When I get there, a crowd is gathering – clearly, it’s not the bus’s best day.

One of the women who joins our posse of waiters is basically freaking out. She has a 9 a.m. meeting, she tells us (it’s 8:54), and she can’t bear to be late. Conveniently, the cabs are on strike today, so every taxi she attempts to hail sails right on by.

At one point she actually stomps her foot. I text Lindsey, who responds, “I didn’t know 3-year-olds who throw temper tantrums in public had meetings to go to.”

The Stomper finally gives up on the bus & the cabs & instead decides to hail… a complete stranger. She approaches a guy in a sedan who’s stopped at a light & asks him for a ride. As the rest of us at the bus stop look on in amazement, she hops in & he whisks her off to the meeting she’s already late for. It’s now 9:06.

One of the other waiting women turns to me, both incredulous & worried: “Should we have gotten that license plate number?”

Thursday, February 7, 2008

You know you live in Washington, D.C., when...

You attend a Young Jewish Democrats happy hour, arriving in a suit with a dozen & a half other young, professional, Democratic Jews like yourself to drink cocktails named "Martini Van Buren" & the "Buchanan Cannon," where the girls you meet are named Noa & the boys are named Aryeh, where you pick up a flier for an event called "Chai for Hillary" and another put out by DC Jews For Obama that reads "Kein annu yecholim!!!"

"What does that mean?" you ask? Oh, my friends, this whole night gets more nerdy, more Jewish, more political, after all. That phrase is Hebrew for...